JoJo's Wasteland Adventure: Chicago Storm
by DarthTrekkie2016
Summary: Paul Storm works a small repair shop in Wrigleyton, in the Chicago Wastes. But with this year's festival, and the arrival of the bizarre Vice family, an adventure spanning the Wasteland begins. Jonathan Vice and Paul Storm are facing an evil who's waited decades for their revenge.
1. Chapter 1: Storm & Steel

**Storm & Steel**

A warm but light rain pattered down on the dirt and metal outside. It wasn't the best of days, but Montrose Plaza had seen worse by far. Once a crossroad for West Montrose, North Broadway, and North Sheridan, the small Chicago locale now was the northern edge of Wrigleyton. The vaguely walled and congruous town lay in the Uptown of the Chicago Wastes.

In this little secluded square was very little. Lying just east of the Graceland fields, it mostly provided housing to the farmers. But there was one store that the farmers loved having close at hand. The simply named "Metal Shop" had been a labor of love for Paul Storm. The shop was useful and stayed in business by doing repairs on tools and weapons. But the second and less often used service was what Paul was remembered for.

Even he was surprised sometimes by the sheer volume of inventory his other hobby provided. Times like now, as he tripped over a crank jutting from one of his shelves.

"Gah! Shitshitshitshi - OW!"

He toppled down, bringing another device from the shelf down with him. A radio with with two levers either side of it smacked him on the back of his head. Clutching the spot, he slipped and nearly collided with his three-person bicycle. He made a mental note to move that further from the stairs than it was, and shoved the offending crank away. He adjusted his glasses over his blue eyes, his mess of brown hair being no worse than it was before the fall.

He continued unperturbed (disregarding the headache) to his workbench. Or, perhaps more accurately, his writing desk. On it sat only a pencil. The drawer was padlocked shut, something quickly remedied with the key he hid behind a loose brick in the wall. From the desk he pulled a red-spiral notebook, something in remarkably pristine condition considering. He stretched and turned on the radio.

As he settled into his seat, the crackle subsided to a quiet humming and fading guitar. He'd only just missed some tune. The chipper, light voice of the hostess picked up. "Good afternoon, Wrigleyton! Livia Lawson here, your eyes and ears in and about Uptown. I keep hearing everyone say they can't stand the news about the Enclave and Brotherhood fighting anymore. Well, I hope you can do your work sitting. The Enclave continue their guerilla fighting, and the Brotherhood are continuing to put pressure on Mayor -"

Despite not finding the subject uninteresting, Paul found himself tuning Livia out. He took up his pencil, and opened back up to the first page of the notebook. Clean and clear as ever. He closed his eyes as he held the tip just above the paper.

He repeated "Pistol, pistol, pistol, pistol." in his head, lowering the pencil down. He opened his eyes, seeing the page seeming to draw a detailed technical sketch onto itself. Soon, he realized it was looking an awful lot like a rifle.

He shook his head, sighing. "Well, it's getting closer." As the image concluded, Paul took a step back. The graphite on the page propelled off in grey-black tendrils, coiling and dancing in the air above the desk. After a few seconds, it began to change in color and texture. Seconds more, and it fell to the desk, a fully formed rifle… With four triggers and four barrels.

He took the gun and threw it into a pile with other similar designs. "Oh well. At least it understands I want a gun. That's… Something."

As he reached to put the pencil away somewhere, he slipped again on the rickety chair. He desperately reached out to catch something to hold him. He caught hold of the upper-right corner of the journal. Or, one of its pages. _Riiip_

"GAH! FUCK!"

He collapsed onto the floor, gripping the piece of the page. Completely unremarkable. More so was the fresh gash on his hand pouring blood. He rose, checked the completely undamaged notebook, and rushed upstairs to find some gause. He nearly toppled into Mr. McLean, who had stopped in to pick up his repaired shovel.

"Whoa there Paul. Y' alright boy? What -" He noticed the wound on his hand. "Eesh. Alright, need any help then?"

Despite the injury, Paul smiled and shook his head. "Oh, not at all sir. Just a moment is all. Your shovel's just back here too, so I'll grab that."

"Alrighty then. What was it, thirty caps?"

Paul hastily washed and wrapped his hand, calling back. "Don't even worry sir. I'm always flexible for a regular."

As he brought the shovel from the back room, Paul finally noticed that Mr. McLean had turned on the upstairs radio. Livia was mid-sendoff. "- then. And don't you forget, Wrigleyton, today the Vice family stops by for the annual festival! So make sure you pop by to see the local royalty. And now, for a little tune. One that reminds you there's just no place like home. Here's Bob Crosby's "Way Back Home". Enjoy."

Paul waved Mr. McLean off, pocketing the caps. He had almost forgotten about that. The annual festival was an event celebrating the reason Wrigleyton was possible: The Wrigley Springs. A massive water-purification plant built by their founders in 2264. Now, twenty-three years later, Wrigleyton had become the haven of the Midwest. Normally not one for celebrations of any sort, Paul usually turned out for this one. He decided today would be no different.

He polished a few of his wares, wiped down his counter as best as possible, and swept any excessive dust out the front door. He placed his caps in the safe beneath the stairs on his way back down. He took up the notebook. "Alright Da Vinci, we're off." He had picked the name "Da Vinci's Notebook" due to it being the name of a famous inventor. Honestly, he didn't know much else about Da Vinci. There wasn't much reading to do of pre-war books.

Notebook tucked into a special pocket in his coat, he stepped out into the sun. The rain had thankfully stopped, and now the light brought some respite from the normal chill. The streets here were mostly empty; All the celebration would be down by the field. He enjoyed his stroll down Sheffield, through the patchwork buildings and comforting metal walls.

Evidently lost in his thoughts, he collided with a massive wall of green. He stumbled back, and would have fallen if a rough, muscled hand hadn't caught him. He stared up at the crooked teeth of the super mutant.

He sighed in relief. "Jeez Wreck. You gave me a start. Sorry about that."

Wreck's mouth opened further in his cheerful smile. "No worry, Storm. Walk to the festival with Wreck, yes?"

"Sure. Glad the rain stopped in time." Wreck was one of only five super mutants in Wrigleyton. Not that people were particularly against them being here. Only that these five were the only ones from the west to stop here. Their eastern counterparts were… Less than willing to fit in with human society. Wreck, despite his name and apparel of bent and broken metal, was the most outwardly friendly. Paul was always happy to see him. Together, they made their way to the field.

* * *

Jonathan Vice sat, arms moodily folded over his chest, staring out the open window of the restored limousine. He tugged at the tight crimson tie his mother had forced him into. He had chosen the blue suit himself, much to his father's anger. He always wanted the family dressed together on outings, and had planned a theme of black and red. Jonathan had already yielded and done up his black hair to a nicely styled quiff.

His mother sat across from him, flowing black gown doing little to hide the curious star birthmark as she turned to speak with the driver. Jonathan shared this mark, but had never truly thought on it too much. Not until a year ago. He looked outside again, the clouds of dust from the limo followed to the side by another trail. To most, it looked rather strange indeed. Only Jonathan saw the figure of space and starlight running alongside the limo, keeping perfect pace and watching over him. Well, only him and his mother.

She coughed, nodding towards it. He closed his eyes, took a breath, and when he looked out again the figure was gone. She leaned in and placed a hand on his arm. "Jonathan, I -"

"Jon. Please just shorten it."

She was getting annoyed now. "You need to calm down, JoJo."

He shook free of her hand and shot her a glare. "And _definitely_ don't call me that!"

His father brought a fist down on the armrest. "Jonathan Jorah Vice! This needs to stop. Your mother is doing all she can to help you deal with… This. You will not talk to her like that. Understand?"

Jonathan was silent, but he nodded. He and his father resumed their sullen gazes, while his mother tried again to talk with him. "Alright, Jon. You need to calm down though. Commander Cosmo should only be out when you need him. You may not think about your stand all that much, but other people will."

"Why? No one else can even see him! It's only there for us. There's already rumors about our family being weird cultists or whatever."

When he noticed his mother looking concernedly out the window, he leaned forward a bit more. "No one else can see him… It's only us, right?"

Layla Vice sighed, joining her son and husband in gazing out at the wastes. "Honestly? I don't know any more JoJo…"

* * *

The center of Wrigleyton, the field, was most often a market square. Today, all of the stalls were bustling and busy, and streamers and signs were scattered about. Citizens and visitors alike were alive like no other time of year. That was why Paul loved the festival. Others were there for the free water. It was a nice thought, though the citizens rarely took advantage of it. That was more for the caravaners and wanderers.

Wreck loved it because everyone was more welcoming than normal. People let their guards down, even around him and his kin. The occasional wanderer stared with wide eyes at the mutants roaming the town, but they quickly learned the new norms.

Paul was ambling down the street, enjoying some fried iguana and a chilled Quantum. As he took another sip, someone roughly shouldered him aside. He managed to catch his food and not breathe in his drink, and rounded on them. He stopped himself before saying anything.

The person was clad head to toe in power armor. The winged sword and gears of the Brotherhood adorned his right shoulder and chestpiece. Slung over their shoulder was a laser rifle. They spoke, clearly a woman despite the weird distortion the armor gave her voice.

"Sorry about that citizen. You alright?"

Paul nodded, more than a little wary. "Ah, yes, fine. I wasn't aware the Brotherhood would be here… I really need to pay more attention."

She shook her head. "No no, you're alright. We were called in by the mayor. Something about some tech or something. Though none of my people have seen anything out of the ordinary. So I guess you enjoy yourselves."

He nodded as the knight took her leave. It was a bit weird that the mayor would call in the Brotherhood, right? Didn't the mayor personally turn them away just last year? He decided it wasn't that important. If he had called them in then it didn't much matter. Besides, more interesting things were happening now.

The crowd cheered and all attention was on the main entrance. A rather well-restored limo drove up and allowed its occupants into the field. The Vices had finally arrived.

Everyone in the Chicago wastes knew about the Vices and their extravagant lifestyle. Their manor covered most of the Thatcher Woods area. They were also known for the fire of 2271, which burned down half of Wrigleyton. The survivors of the area that burned down reported seeing a great shadow falling over them. Still, they had donated caps and material to rebuild and improve the town. If nothing else, they were the town's crowning attraction.

* * *

The limp body of Mayor Rayden James fell to the floor. Blood poured from a shot to his head. Orion tossed the pistol to the side, and looked again over the celebrating city below. Sure enough, the Vices were here, without giving it a second thought. Van Lundholm would be sure to repay him for this.

He retrieved a vial from his belt. Within was what seemed to be normal water, but there was a distinct sparkle within. He uncapped it, and poured into the broken pipe. Even as he poured, the vial didn't empty. "Get to work, Dionysus."

…

 **Stand Profile**

Name: Da Vinci's Notebook

Power: E

Speed: C

Range: B

Durability: E

Precision: B

Learning: A

Ability: When pencil is touched to paper, the notebook creates a design. Once finished, tendrils of graphite shoot out and create the device. The notebook seems only capable of making unnecessarily complex and inconvenient to use objects however.


	2. Chapter 2: The Cult of Dionysus

**The Cult of Dionysus**

Hana paused as she rejoined her squad. A message came over the comms in her power armor. The commander came over the radio. "Soldiers… Uh, Knights, um… I, mm… There's something… Something's going on here. I… I dunno… I… Keep your weapons drawn… Something's going… There's something happening here…"

The Knights looked from one to another. Their commander was definitely acting unusually. He was normally so sure and well-spoken. Whatever was happening must be huge. The squad drew their weapons and overlooked the crowded field.

* * *

Paul managed to slip through the packed crowd around the Vices. He finished the last of his food and drink, and tossed the stick and bottle away. He pulled back as a Mr. Handy hovered by. It briefly paused before him with a tray of waters. "A drink for you, good sir?"

"None for me, thanks. I'll be grabbing another Nuka Cola I think."

The robot rushed away. Grateful to be out of the thick of the people, Paul joined Wreck by a bar. The server nodded and passed him his drink without even asking. He held off on opening it though, as Wreck smacked him on the back. The two laughed and settled in for more good food and drinks.

Which was quickly interrupted again. "Excuse me sir, would you care for a glass of water fresh from Springs?"

Paul again politely smiled. "Um, no, thank you though. I'm fine."

This Mr. Handy, like the first, quickly hovered off toward another crowd. Before the two of them could even turn around to talk again, a third rushed up to them. "Excuse me sir, would you like a -"

Now Wreck was getting annoyed. He pushed the Mr. Handy back a foot, growling. "Storm says no. Wreck no want any either! Go bug other person!"

The robot reclaimed the space it lost. "Terribly sorry sir, but it's on the house! Fresh from Wrigley Springs!"

Paul eyed the robot. The Mr. Handy servants were typical of the event. But they were never _this_ persistent. There was no way this was supposed to be how they worked. Something was going on. But before he could say anything, Wreck grabbed a glass and shoved the robot away. " **Fine**! Wreck drink your water! No go leave Wreck and Storm alone!"

As the machine flew away, Wreck downed the water in a single gulp. "Gah. Robots make Wreck mad. Stupid robots… Stupid."

He grew quiet as he stared into the wall. Paul tried to calm him down, knowing Wreck could sometimes work himself into a quiet rage for days. Even if it was a thankfully passive aggression, he'd rather his friend not be in a mood for the coming week.

"Ah, don't worry Wreck. Next one that comes our way I'll reprogram, yeah?"

Wreck didn't answer. Paul sighed, seeing he'd failed already. Wreck stood slowly, shaking slightly. "Wreck no… No like stupid… Wreck... Water stupid… Mmmmmm." He gripped the end of the bar.

Before Paul could question how he had gotten drunk so quickly, Wreck threw aside the bar, sending drinks and meals flying to the ground. Paul leaped back from his stool. "Woah, Wreck! What the hell? Are you alright?"

Even as Paul was shocked by Wreck's sudden outburst, he suddenly noticed there were similar bizarre happenings all over the field. People were suddenly collapsing in tears, bent over stools or edges in laughter, or getting caught up in fist fights. A sickening splatter snapped his attention back to his friend. The barkeep was slumped against the wall, face first, a trail of blood leading from an impact stain. Wreck turned back to look at Paul. All that there was left was an anger he had never seen before.

* * *

Jonathan hated these festivals. It was nothing but an excuse for the town to gawk at him and his parents. His father saw it more as a responsibility or duty to Wrigleyton. Only his mother seemed to genuinely enjoy herself on these trips. As the crowd surrounded and hounded the family, he took his chance to slip away. Most people only cared about his parents after all. Most of them.

A woman probably only a few years older than him in a simple red dress caught his arm. He was startled by the healthy waves of her dark red curls. "Jonathan Vice, correct? Livia Lawson, Wrigleyton Radio here! I would love to interview you, if it's not asking too much."

He paused, wanting nothing more than to immediately say no. No doubt she'd be asking about his parents. But he was smiling despite this. "I… Well, I mean."

He turned back, noticing his father looking for him. Before his glare found Jonathan, he grabbed Livia and motioned toward a bench out of sight. "Sure, it's no trouble at all." Bullet dodged, he decided answering a few questions would be a fair price to pay for this save.

Livia smiled charmingly, but she couldn't hide her enthusiastic fist-pump from him. She took a calming breath and swiped a glass of water from a passing Mr. Handy. She downed it as Jonathan got comfortable on the bench. "So, Ms. Lawson. What did you want to talk about?"

She smiled and produced a notebook and pen from a bag at her hip. She sat down next to him, smile replaced with a determined look. "Well, Mr. Vice, I feel like Wrigleyton needs to know more about you and your family. All anyone gets to see is the limos and the wealth and the mansion. But no one knows _you_. So, for starters, what would you say is…? Your favorite kind of music?"

Jonathan was a bit surprised by this. He tried to think of a time anyone had asked him that. He couldn't. He actually had to give it some thought then. "Well… I guess I'm more of a classical person. But my favorite would probably just be the piano. I tried to learn how to play, but, well, I'm no musician I guess. Is that a weird answer?"

Livia shook her head enthusiastically. "Not at all, not at all. I've always loved the piano. I wish I had some classical tracks to play myself. Alright, so, rumor has it that the Vices don't get out much. Is this true, or do you have a favorite place to go?"

Again, she stared intently at him waiting for his answer. His smile was only getting bigger. This was exactly what he needed. "Well… It may seem weird, but there's the ruin of the Concordia University near the manor. I like to head down there a lot. I actually like to use the baseball field down there."

She jotted down what he said dutifully, but barely took her eyes off him. Unfortunately for Jonathan, the moment was ruined by a sudden shout further into the field. He turned to see what was going on. He had put a sort of mental block on his surroundings, enjoying this interview. But now he noticed as people were seemingly drunk or emotional everywhere.

The shout came from a man in a dusty grey coat and maroon pants, backing rapidly away from a super mutant. The mutant's stride was bringing it closer to him faster than he could get away. But everywhere, people were screaming, laughing, fighting. Someone fell from a balcony above him, unable to climb from the ground as he writhed in laughter.

He went to rise, but Livia grabbed at his arm. "Hey, don't go. I wanna know… I wanna talk with you s'more. Your reeeeally fun. C'mon!"

He tried to shake free of her, but she followed him up and wrapped her arms around him. "Heeeeyyy! Heehee. You're really strong, y'know? Why're you all hidden under that suit? C'mon, let me -"

"Livia, what the hell? Come on, let me go!" He couldn't really push at her, his arms pinned to his sides. She was surprisingly strong. Despite wanting to be as careful as possible, an explosion somewhere else in the field convinced him to act quickly. "Alright, come on Commander!"

Still in her strange daze, Livia was lifted and pushed back by the figure of swirling cosmos. He pinned her to the wall as Jonathan rushed away. Commander Cosmo followed, eyes of blue starlight surveying the area. He rushed over to the super mutant, hoping it wasn't too late to defend that one man. Thankfully, he had acted quickly enough. Before the green monster wrapped in metal could reach the man, Commander Cosmo rushed forward. The Commander delivered three swift kicks in the span of a second, and sent the mutant flying backward.

Jonathan sighed, hoping the man wouldn't think much on what happened. Instead, he heard an exclamation of " **What the fuck is that?!** "

* * *

Wreck was now collapsed against the metal wall of a nearby shop. Paul was grateful at least to see him still breathing. But what… _Was_ … **That?!** Before him, having just kicked Wreck several meters backward, stood a figure of swirling black, purple, and green. A cape of what seemed like the night sky flowed from his back, and eyes like stars burned behind a pointed mask of darkness.

It looked to him, and then over its shoulder. Paul followed its gaze, staring at the youngest Vice in his disheveled blue suit. Jonathan returned his shocked look. "You… You can see my stand?"

Paul wasn't entirely sure how to respond. But as he sat forward, behind his back he withdrew Da Vinci's Notebook and a pencil. He slid the page open only a little, and thought "Gun gun gun gun gun gun!" as he touched pencil to page. He re-hid the pencil and shut the notebook.

"Your… Your what? That thing… A stand? What are you talking about?"

Jonathan shook his head. "Oh no. My mom's told me enough about you bastards! If you survive this, make sure to tell Van Lundholm I'm coming for him for this!"

The starry figure began trudging toward him. No other options left, he withdrew the notebook and opened to the page. Graphite shot from the page, and flew behind him. Jonathan and the stand each took a step back, unsure of what was happening. Paul couldn't blame them, practically in the same boat.

A second passed, and suddenly a huge weight was placed on his shoulders. He looked up, seeing a strange bronze gatling gun. He searched desperately for the trigger, or whatever Da Vinci had given it as an operator, but a starry fist came inches from his face.

Fully expecting to die, Paul was confused as to why the stand stopped short. Until he saw the strange, black tendrils holding it in place. He followed them, eventually spotting a woman who looked similar to Jonathan. The tendrils of strange fabric flowed from where her dress met the ground. "JoJo, no! This isn't how you should handle this! It isn't _just_ us and Lundholm!"

Jonathan seemed upset, but genuinely confused. "What? But you… Oh, whatever. Fine. You!" He pointed to Paul. "You should come with us. I have no clue what's going on, but it's clearly an enemy stand. And… It doesn't seem like it'd be yours."

Another explosion. A wave of heat and fire came toward them, but the woman's dress again flowed and shifted, a shadowy dome falling around them. Paul could still see faint light from the fires outside through the shadows. The woman gasped, and fell to the floor grasping at her back. Jonathan ran to her, but she waved him off. "I'm fine. Jonathan, have the Commander look around."

The figure vanished, and Jonathan closed his eyes to focus. As this happened, Paul shifted the gun from his back. It was evidently operated by twin levers. He didn't even want to know.

"Alright mom, we're good. There isn't much of a crowd, but there's fire all over. Just keep on guard."

Mrs. Vice laughed. "No need to tell me, JoJo. Let's go."

The dome swirled and returned to the dress. Sure enough, smoke and flames surrounded them. Still, people around them were hysterical. Most of them were in a frenzy now, throwing things and beating their fellows. The three stand users, two determinedly and one at a complete loss, rushed toward the limo.

As they drew close, however, a rocket collided with the car, and the explosion threw the three back. The Vices rose to their knees. " **Dad!** " " **Oliver!** "

Paul looked from the burning wreck to a nearby platform. A Brotherhood Knight shifted a rocket launcher from their shoulder and drew a laser pistol. "Alright squad! Whatever this is, we can't let it get out into the city. No one leaves alive." Their laser weapons hummed to life, and Paul desperately wished he had just stayed at the shop today.

* * *

 **Stand Profiles**

Name: Commander Cosmo

Power: A

Speed: A

Range: C

Durability: A

Precision: A

Learning: B

Ability: Not only an incredibly physical fighter, Commander Cosmo possesses the ability to shift its physical form, not only in shape, but in nature. Foes that attack the stand too slowly will not hit it, instead feeling the cold of space.

* * *

Name: Jet Black Dress

Power: B

Speed: A

Range: C

Durability: C

Precision: A

Learning: B

Ability: Taking the form of a black dress for Layla, Jet Black Dress is more a strange mass of fabric-like energy. It can create shapes and tendrils from the dress, which can be used for movement, restraints, fighting, etc.


	3. Chapter 3: Layla's Vice

**Layla's Vice**

Fires burned in every direction. Lasers streamed overhead. Paul stayed low and desperately clutched Da Vinci's Notebook to his chest. He still had no idea what exactly was happening, but at least the Vice's weren't trying to kill him… Anymore. That, at least, gave him little choice but to trust them here.

Despite the things the two could do, Mrs. Vice insisted that they couldn't use their stands to fight the Brotherhood. Not yet. Not if there was some other option. Paul thought that a bit odd, but apparently the knights couldn't see the flowing shadows that would knock away any lasers too close.

Jonathan led the way, showing considerably less restraint than his mother. Whenever someone got a bit too close, Paul watched his stand fly forward and throw them back with a punch. Paul would have felt bad, but knew that this _was_ restrained when compared to earlier.

Even in the chaos, Paul couldn't keep his mind from racing. What was going on? Why was everyone being affected like this? What by? And why was the Brotherhood shooting everyone on sight?!

Questions for later. For now, the only question that mattered was how they were all going to escape this mess. The main entrance the limo had driven through was now swarming with knights in power armor. No chance to charge through them. But all over the benches of the old field walls, lasers poured down toward them. Paul desperately tore through his memories of town, trying to think of anything of value.

For some reason, he thought of Wrigleyton Radio. He wasn't sure why. Something a customer, Kaleb, had told him. Kaleb ran jobs for… Some less reputable people in town. Usually involving scaving, stealing, or making chems like Calmex or Daytripper. Paul learned most of what he knew of gun repairs doing work for him. Why was he thinking of this now?

Then it clicked. Of course! An interesting note Kaleb oft let slip was that he brought Livia Lawson much of the news she ran. So, to help him with finding those stories - and perchance some chems - Livia had a tunnel running from the Radio building to a basement outside the town wall. If they could just make it to that… On the other side of the field… Perfect.

* * *

In a groggy, aching haze, Livia made her way through the streets of Wrigley Field. She had gotten away from the initial explosions and fires, but now she was struggling. Standing had been quite the challenge at first. Now, she could maintain a stagger with her Shanxi drawn. The crowd was all over, but thinning. The town was spinning, but the lasers kept her focused on moving. If she could just make it to the Radio building.

But… What had happened? She'd woken up on a bench, head aching and extremely cold despite her scarf and lengthy sleeves. All she remembered was being thrown from someone. Her old notepad had been destroyed in the fires. But none of that mattered now.

All that mattered was getting through all these lasers, all these knights, to her station. She could escape! She knew, or perhaps hoped, that Kaleb would take the same way out. Two guns were better than one.

She opted to leave the streets, escaping the open field. She dove through open doorways and broken windows, making a steady path forward. Strangely enough, diving through the town with a strange hangover trying to escape some form of authority was not an entirely new thing for Livia. As she rushed through the town, Livia tried to force herself back to her clear minded self.

She started with trying to work out the separate players in the cacophony outside. The stomping of power armored feet all over. Lasers cracking and smashing all over. But… These thuds. She swore she could hear the sounds of bodies hitting walls. Equally bizarre were the constant high speed smacks. Livia dreaded to think it, but… It was possible that one or more of the town muties had been made aggressive by whatever had happened.

She counted herself beyond lucky to have safely made her way back to the station. Less so to see that the entrance to the tunnel was still sealed. The rusted metal locker before it hadn't been touched. She holstered her pistol, and surveyed the rest of the room. Her furniture was strewn about the floor, and a beam had come through the roof. A small fire convinced her to finish her study and get out even faster.

Then the solid steel door shot off the hinges. A massive dent carried it away to the other end of the room, actually embedding itself into the wall. She nearly screamed, but ducked under her desk and drew her pistol. Expecting a Brotherhood Knight, Livia was surprised to see three people enter. Two were in fancy clean clothes, and one wore a dusty old grey coat. She recognized Paul instantly. The other two…

Wait, weren't those the Vices? She slipped slowly out from under the desk. "Paul? What's goi -"

She felt something collide with her, forcing the air from her lungs. She flew back into her filing cabinets. Her pistol had gone flying, and Livia gasped desperately for air. It didn't feel like her back was too bad. But… What the hell had hit her? None of the three had moved.

Paul rushed to right in front of her, turning back to the Vices. "Woah, woah! Jonathan, call him off!"

"Like hell! She was the first who attacked me!"

Livia's gaze shot between them both. The two continued yelling, but she was too busy focusing on standing. She opted to leave her pistol on the ground, in case the Vices decided she really _was_ dangerous. Instead, the sounds of the Brotherhood urged her to rush and get away. She forced herself to her desk again, and felt along its side. Despite mostly being dazed, she was keenly aware of Paul standing awkwardly between her and the center of the room… Where neither of the Vices were standing. She pushed the button, and a thin opening slid open behind the locker.

Then… She must have collapsed. Strangely, before she allowed herself to slip away, someone caught her. But Paul stood behind her, unbent, and neither of the Vices were close enough. She was too far gone to think about it.

* * *

Commander Cosmo gently lifted Livia from the ground. Jonathan groaned. "Ugh. What a pain. Well, at least we got the tunnel open. Are you sure we should -" He turned to his mother, who shot him an icy glare.

"Right, right. I'll have the Commander carry her. You!" He pointed to this new stand user, Paul as Livia had called him. "Stay between us. That stand seems useless for combat."

He didn't give anything more than a nod, staring worriedly at Livia. His mother went first, Jet Black Dress feeling out the tunnel ahead of them. Paul followed, and Jonathan found himself taking up the rear. Thankfully, carrying Lawson was no problem for the Commander. The line continued down this tunnel in silence. Though the entrance had been narrow, and the drop had been harsh, it opened up to a comfortable width.

A tendril of his mother's stand found a second button in the tunnel, shutting the tunnel behind him. Hopefully the Brotherhood wouldn't work this out in time to find them. Similarly, he hoped no one would be waiting for them on the other end.

He really hoped he could be that lucky. But today wasn't the Vice's day.

* * *

Layla found the end of the tunnel a minute before she actually reached it. As she drew close to it, Jet Black Dress opened the door. Light streamed in, the quiet peace outside a welcoming sound. She clambered up the incline, her stand helping her in the climb. Paul yelped quietly as she wrapped a tendril around him to help him. She chuckled. Definitely not an enemy.

The tunnel opened up into a dusty decrepit basement. Small windows allowed some sun to warm the room. Rotted and torn books littered the room, spread out from a rotting old bookcase. The stone steps at least were in good shape. Layla hushed them as she crept forward. The Dress fanned out, slipping through cracks here and there in the walls and ceiling. She couldn't see through it, but she could feel. There was warm sun above them. It didn't seem like there was anything around. But Layla was always cautious.

Jonathan and Paul were close behind her. They followed her example and knelt as she went up the stairs. She opened the door, now viewing a blown out brick wall. It all seemed clear. She was slightly regretting having Jonathan carry Livia. The Commander made for a much better, and safer, scout.

But anything was better than Wrigley Field right now. Whatever this enemy stand was, it seemed like it wasn't made for direct combat. Otherwise the user would have confronted them. So she stepped out from the basement without hesitation. She stopped the two behind her and peered around.

" _ **THERE SHE IS.**_ "

The words fell over her in a wave. Dust and rubble flew everywhere, and even Jet Black Dress was forced back. She was pushed along the floor as her ears rang and the air rushed by. The only thing strangely unaffected by the wind was a flowing white veil.

" _ **ALMOST HAVE HER!**_ "

Before she passed through the veil, she saw that the door to the basement had been thrown shut in the wind. Even more thankfully, a heavy wooden wardrobe was slowly sliding in front of it. Then, as she passed it, the air stopped. And the veil vanished.

"Hello, Mrs. Vice. Or, I suppose Ms. Vice now. My condolences. I know what will follow will make this hard to believe, but I'm not one who likes causing pain. I promise. I'll make this quick."

* * *

Paul reeled from the sound, on his back as his head pounded. Jonathan was with him, though it seemed almost like he was faring even worse. His stand had vanished, leaving Livia on the floor. Paul figured it may have been worse for him. Maybe he could hear with his stand? Would that make the sound doubly effective? Is that how this worked? Paul wasn't entirely sure, having only a notebook and a dress as his points of comparison.

In a minute or two, he finally could hear. It was quiet again. He could at least hear his own thoughts. But Jonathan was still doubled over. The sound may have actually helped Livia, rousing her from a deep rest. Paul rushed over to her, gently shaking her after leaning her against a wall.

"Livia? Livia, are you okay?"

Her eyes fluttered slightly. "I… Ugh… Yeah, I'm… Better at least. Paul? What happened? I just remember the Vices and… Why are you holding a notebook?"

He sighed in relief. "Thank God. I was seriously worried about… Wait… I thought... You can see my stand?"

She squinted, raising a hand to her head. "I - What? Paul, what are you talking about? A stand? What does that mean?"

Clearly, Jonathan was hearing again. "Oh hell no! I knew it!" Within a second, the starry figure erupted from him in a defensive stance.

"No more of Van Lundholm's tricks! She must be the enemy stand user!"

She glared straight at Jonathan, right through the figure. "Alright, I'm done asking questions. I don't know what either of you are going off about, but I'm done waiting for answers that aren't coming. Are we…?"

She looked around quickly, nodding to herself. "Good, we're out. Then I am off. Paul… I think maybe you might talk. So you can stick around if you want. I need to find Kaleb."

Jonathan looked a bit pissed, but realizing she couldn't see his stand, he begrudgingly relaxed his shoulders and withdrew it. Paul silently breathed a sigh of relief. He followed Livia as she made her way to the door. She twisted the knob, and tried to open it. But it didn't budge even slightly. Paul thought to offer to try, but Livia shot him a glance insuring he'd leave her to it.

She tried a minute more. Before Jonathan stepped a bit closer. "Seriously… What a pain. Stand aside… Um, pun unintended."

On cue, the stand erupted and threw one punch at the door. It and the wardrobe behind it splintered. Livia screamed and stepped back. Jonathan brushed by, looking around. "Lawson, you're not leaving. Not until we find my mother. We have no idea what's going on for sure, and if we want to be safe, we -"

He stopped, staring to a room on his left. Paul crept up toward him, shooting a glance into the room. There, on the tattered carpet and ancient wood floor, was the mangled and torn up body of Layla Vice. Scratched into the wall behind her, in carvings and dried red, was the single word: " _Thief_ ".


	4. Chapter 4: All the Lights in the Sky

**All the Lights in the Sky**

God… These days were always the worst part of the job. Euphemia could handle medical treatment. Surgeries even weren't that bad. But something about autopsies was… Different. She could get herself to disassociate from super mutants, ghouls, or other muties. But those had been normal people until only a few hours ago.

What made it even worse was the difficulty she had with them. Not just her, but all her fellow scribes. They had found absolutely nothing wrong with any of the victims of the Wrigley Field outbreak. People were considering that it wasn't an outbreak at all, but a case of mass hysteria. Not all the affected had been killed. Only those who tried to escape or attack the Brotherhood knights. Everyone else seemed entirely recovered. Except for the mayor.

It was being kept quiet, a secret held between the Elder and his top brass. But Euphie had friends in the paladins. Though it had been framed as a suicide, the Elder knew well enough that the mayor was not one to take the easy way out. Other minor evidence of a break-in convinced the leaders it was some form of foul play. The current theory was a fast-acting, faster degrading bioweapon. Someone was using Wrigleyton as a testing grounds for some sick method of war. Obviously, the immediate suspects were the Enclave.

But this wasn't the end of today's unusual happenings. A scout had reported an extremely loud sound, so much so it sent debris flying down the street. He remarked it had sounded like a man's voice. The Elder was convinced it was another strange weapons test. Quickly, the Brotherhood fanned out. The Midwestern Chapter had been… Struggling, recently. Air power was lacking. But they had some other toys.

The quiet shattered street echoed as the Brotherhood Grizzly tank rolled through it. It was a patchwork machine, less like the armor of the Great War and more like armor of the First World War. The knights, paladins, and lancers took the field on foot. The scribes fought with cannon. Euphie sat on the side, along with a few lancers.

Lancer Poole shook his head, eying the distant skyline at the rising moon. "Man, today has been a trip. Complete freak outs in Wrigley, and now some sonic weapons? More than a little bizarre, eh Euphie?"

She didn't answer. Instead, she looked further down the road. She had no clue why, but… This felt like a relief. Of sorts. Euphemia had always thought herself a freak. She had been able to keep it under wraps, but some days she worried that she wasn't made for this world.

These thoughts would have to wait. There was a shout from down the road. "Hold! Jonathan Vice, stay where you are! We've got some questions about Wrigley Field."

Lancers and knights surrounded a group of three, stood outside a crumbling three story building. One Euphemia recognized as a reporter who had interviewed Brotherhood units a while ago. The man in the middle looked mostly unremarkable in his grey duster. But indeed, there was the youngest Vice, in his striking blue suit. He seemed like he had been in tears. But as Euphie and the tank drew closer, he eyed the other man. The man in the duster reluctantly nodded, and stepped closer to the reporter.

Jonathan Vice turned to the soldiers. That was when Euphemia, for the first time in a while, felt like she had found someone who would understand. A man of swirling cosmos and starlight appeared beside him, striking a defensive post. Another second, and he rushed the tank. It flew over, and Euphie went flying. Before she could fall, she acted on instinct. Hooks shot forward, and she glided gently to the ground beside her guardian.

* * *

Jonathan watched as twin hooks shot into the ground, and a Brotherhood scribe landed squarely on the ground. Beside her was, clearly, her stand. A masked figure of steel, black, and red. Its head was a visor or globe of purple glass, rimmed in pointed black metal. Similar globes of this glass were all over its joints.

The scribe stared at him, but strangely enough, she was smiling in an entirely genuine fashion. "Oh my God… You! You have one too! You've got a guardian too! I'm… Not alone!"

Jonathan stared at her, not sure now of what to do. Commander Cosmo had thrown the tank into the nearest building, but some lancers and knights were still around. One was clearly on a radio in their power armor.

"So, you don't know what a stand is, huh? I guess that's reasonable, being kept sheltered in the Brotherhood and stuff. So are you… Gonna attack me, or…?"

He was genuinely surprised when she looked startled. "What?! I… Why would we fight? You're the first person who can see him! Your's is the only other one I've seen! I just need to talk with you. And… My stand?"

The knight who had been radioing had now stopped. He nodded silently to his fellows as he raised his laser rifle. They followed suit. Jonathan groaned as he noticed Euphemia hadn't even realized. "God… What a pain."

"Ad victoriam!" The knights and lancers opened fire, lasers pouring all over the street. There was a metal clanging behind him, and he threw himself and the Commander forward. He ducked under the lasers, and the Commander brought this scribe to the ground. They seemed perfectly fine killing the "insane" scribe as well.

She screamed, but seemed to immediately understand. "Wait, hold fire, hold fire. I'm fine! You don't understand, we -" He pushed her down again as a knight made to strike her with an armored fist.

"I don't think they're listening. Guess today is a zero chances kinda day. If you don't wanna use your stand to fight them, then get back!"

With a punch, Commander Cosmo sent a knight flying into a wall, to the surprise of his comrades. Thankfully, it seemed his order wouldn't come into play. She rose, terrified, but resolute. Her stand spun its hooks threateningly, looking from target to target. As another knight raised a pistol toward the scribe, one of the hooks went flying and caught him in the head. She seemed shocked as he collapsed, but shook her head and got low.

As more knights raised their weapons, he watched her stand withdraw its hooks, and move in strange, fluid motions. He watched as suddenly, the light around the knights' visors simply… Vanished. There was darkness over them, and as they moved, so did the shadows.

"Well… This'll be fun." He readied the Commander to finish off these other soldiers.

* * *

As soon as the first lasers fired, Paul threw open Da Vinci's Notebook. He had been thinking "Cover" as he wrote in it. He had stepped over to Livia as per Jonathan's silent instruction. As he had said, Da Vinci's Notebook wasn't really a combative stand. But it could be unusually useful. Though… This wasn't entirely what he had wanted.

He and Livia were suddenly closed off from the outside world, locked in shadow and metal. It was cold and… Uncomfortable.

"Ugh! What the hell?! Paul, what happened?!"

Lasers splatted against the metal, and the Paul listened to the hissing as they hit. There was a slight increase in temperature. He couldn't see anything, only black. Because of this, he wasn't entirely sure how large this shell was. Then he realized, as a boot lightly kicked him in the rib.

"Ow! Um, Livia? How… How are you sitting?"

She groaned, shifting, boot still hitting him. "Uncomfortably. I'm pressed up against a wall here, and my knee's in my chest. You?"

"Oh… Shit."

Paul felt to both his left and right. He couldn't even ubend his arms as he did so, feeling the uneven and cold metal walls all around him. Without even leaning forward, he soon found Livia's shoulders. He pulled back. They had maybe a foot and a half of space to move around, and… Feeling the top, not much more to sit in. Standing was out of the question.

"Alright, Livia… We should at least be safe in here. But… I have no clue how to get out. And… Is there anyway for you to shift? You're kind of kicking me."

"Oh, sorry!" Her boot withdrew. "Let me just -" _Clang_ "Ow! Shit!"

Suddenly, she fell onto him. He jumped a bit, hitting his own head on an outcropping from the shell. He was very grateful that, at the least, she couldn't see him right now. He blew as her hair fell in front of his nose. "You okay Livia?"

Her hands rested on his shoulders. "Yeah… Fuck. Couldn't have left us a light Paul?

"H-Hey, don't blame me! I can just barely control this thing! I swear, it's got a mind of its own…"

He felt her shaking a bit, and worried that maybe she had hurt herself more than she let on. Until he noticed he could hear her snickering.

"Uh… Livia?"

Now she was full on laughing. "Oh man! S-Sorry, I just… Pfft… I'm such a fucking child. Do you mean the notebook, or…?"

He suddenly felt her as she fell into a full bodied laugh. If they had more room, she'd be on the floor. As it was, she was on….

Shit.

* * *

Broken suits of armor and bodies littered the street. Jonathan looked it over, breathing heavily. Even with his stand, this one had been closer than most other scraps. It was getting dark now. He looked around, finally finding the girl's stand. It slid down a bent lamp post with a hook. Its masked face surveyed the scene and nodded to him.

Then, the scribe shimmered into view next to it. Keeping track of the combat had become interesting when, suddenly, she had disappeared.

"Impressive. So what exactly does your stand do? The hooks are clear enough, and it's probably on par with Commander Cosmo speed-wise. But then you're blinding knights and disappearing. I'm just curious."

She brushed aside her bright red hair. Her uniform was a bit torn near the stomach, a knight having took a swing with a blade. That had been what prompted her vanishing. "Oh, well, I only really found that out myself recently. It turns out that they can control light. So, bending the waves, shifting the particles. And I can even change how the light affects things. So I can send light through things, including myself. Problem is, -" She rubbed her bruised head. "I can't see when I do that. Light goes through my eyes." She smiled sheepishly. "Tripped on the curb. Heh."

Her stand withdrew. "So… Commander Cosmo? I like it. Did you choose the name yourself?"

He shook his head. "Oh, no, my mom actually…"

For a while the two were quiet. Jonathan was thankful she was quick on the uptake. "Well, I like it." She looked around at the street. "So, where did your friends go. And… What's that?"

Jonathan followed her gaze. In the middle of the sidewalk was a strange metal… Egg, he supposed. It was short and compact, and Jonathan sighed remembering that they were both in there. "I guess that's the cover they took. C'mon, let's get them out."

The two circled the egg. He shook his head in disbelief. There was no sign of any device to open or remove the shell, and no window into it.

"Alright, alright, bust it open then Commander." Within a second, Commander Cosmo shot forward and slammed a fist into the metal. Jonathan stood for a second, new beads of sweat forming as his face grew red. Then he doubled over clutching his fist.

" **What the fuck!?** "

The shell wasn't even dented by his attack. Whatever this metal was, it was faring better than even the Grizzly he had tossed aside. He was beginning to reconsider his belief that this notebook stand was so useless after all.

"Hey, scribe! Er, I mean… What's your name?"

She looked surprised. "What? Oh, um, Euphemia. Euphemia Knight."

"Alright, could you get… Uh, what's your stand's name?"

Her surprise was quickly replaced with confusion. "It's name? Does… It have a name?"

Had he not been so engrossed in grasping his bleeding hand, he would have likely facepalmed. "Well, if that's your answer then no. You have to name it, it gets annoying just saying "your stand", you know?"

She thought, looking up toward the early night sky. Stars were just beginning to appear. "Well… How about… All the Lights?"

"Great, yeah. Clever. Euphie, could you get All the Lights to make that shell transparent?"

She nodded. All the Lights appeared, and brought its mechanical hands down gently on the metal. Sure enough, it slowly faded into transparency. Curiously enough, only the outermost layer did. This left several strange buttons, levers, and gears all over the over-designed interior.

And there they were… Livia straddling a flushed Paul laughing hysterically. This was made extra uncomfortable due to the silence of the affair. Paul quickly realized something was happening as soon as his eyes began adjusting to the light. He locked eyes with a bewildered Euphemia and shook Livia.

She looked around, eyed Jonathan, and scooted back from Paul. Colliding with the now invisible metal wall. She clearly was shouting some choice words, Paul nervously making sure she was alright. As he did, he quickly studied the devices surrounding him.

Jonathan sighed. "What a pain. Even with that, we'll have to work out this whole contraption. We're gonna be here for hou -"

Paul nodded, and pulled a lever. As he did so Livia kicked two foot pedals to either side of him. There was a sound of clanging. All the Lights pulled away, and the shell returned, with a noticeable opening in the top.

Jonathan eyed them in surprise. "How… Did you work that out so fast? I was prepared to make camp and wait you guys out."

Paul shrugged. "I've kind of gotten used to Da Vinci's norms. Those parts were some form of copper. I guess that's its way of saying I need to use them."

The four of them stood beneath the stars, sat between unconscious or dead Brotherhood soldiers, and not one of them was entirely sure what to do now. Jonathan sat, laying back against an old car, looking up at all the lights in the sky.

* * *

 **Stand Profile**

Name: All the Lights

Power: B

Speed: A

Range: B

Durability: C

Precision: A

Learning: C

Ability: Can control the waves and particles of light within a radius of 10 meters.


	5. Chapter 5: A Savior in the Square

**A Savior in the Square**

The small community of Rutherford Sayre was made up of people set on enduring away from the walls of Wrigleyton. Usually, they preferred looser governance and the freedom to come and go as they pleased. That said, they appreciated fair and just laws and the safety the town could provide.

Which is why people so respected the Sayreskill Militia. Their commander, Xander Faythe, found himself particularly welcomed today. Everyone knew by now of the tragedy in Wrigleyton. The fires could be seen from the town square. Or, perhaps more accurately, the smoke. The militia were on particularly high alert now. But Gabriel insisted on keeping calm. Now was no time to be playing risky.

Xander knew full well he was right. For all the safe choices the Faythe brothers made, the militia could be their most dangerous gamble. But Xander truly believed in their work. The Enclave to one side, the Brotherhood to the other, and the people needed a means of defense.

Today, militiamen were all over the streets in their blue and blacks, all using whatever guns they owned. Even as they took this risk, Gabriel was where he usually was: In the square, strumming his guitar. One of the reasons travellers liked stopping in Rutherford was his music.

But today, his music fell on deaf or occupied ears. People whispered everywhere. What certainly wasn't helping was the constant drone of the eyebots as they flew overhead.

Anywhere else in the Chicago Wastes, shooting them down would be a fun sport. In Rutherford Sayre, unfortunately, it was a crime. Not that the Faythes were particularly supportive of the Enclave's cause. But when someone came to your door in power armor and armed with plasma weapons, you didn't argue with their demands. And so the town had become an unwilling tributary to the Enclave.

Xander noticed his men pulling into shadows or doors, hiding their guns. He didn't need to ask why. He increased his pace as he strode into the square. He had just taken his place by Gabriel's side as the town gate was thrown open.

In walked a group of five, flanked on either side by two eyebots. Three of the figures were armored in the advanced Enclave armor, the other two in grey-white uniform and black army caps. Colonel Ingram marched into Rutherford as he did often. Beside him was his daughter Evangeline.

The Colonel, tall and with short black hair and dark chestnut eyes, looked like a totally different man today. He was normally calm and composed, with a constant menacing air about him. His stride was always confident. Today though, he was rushed, agitated. Something was definitely wrong. Xander was sure it had something to do with Wrigleyton.

The soldiers approached as the eyebots proclaimed their typical greeting. A basic, military horn played. "Greetings, people of the Wastes. The Enclave is here to protect, and reform you."

Ingram skipped his typical salute to Gabriel, and glared with open hostility at Xander. Thankfully, no one had drawn their guns yet, so maybe things wouldn't get that bad.

Colonel Ingram surveyed the town around him. A crowd was growing. They stood mesmerized, as even with the Enclave officer's arrival, Gabriel hadn't stopped playing. What was even stranger was, today, Ingram didn't stop him. He watched intently as Gabriel strummed, eyes closed. As he drew to a close, he sighed and lowered the guitar to his side. He nodded a greeting. "Colonel."

Ingram said nothing, simply eyeing the guitar curiously. After almost half a minute, Evangeline had to rouse him from the still.

"Ah, yes. Gabriel…"

Xander was liking this less and less. Something was definitely up. "Well? Out with it. What are you here for, Colonel."

At this, he smiled. Raising his hands, Ingram put on a voice of feigned innocence. "Is a friendly visit reason for such hostility? No Enclave business today. I've just come to hear him sing. Please. Don't stop on my account."

Xander made to stand between his brother and the soldiers. "Sir… We gather here in peace. There's no need to -"

Evangeline stepped toward him, eyes alight. "I suggest you step away." Her suddenly in his face disarmed him, and he retreated. This seemed to please her. She turned back to Gabriel. "Don't make him ask again. Do as he says."

Xander felt Gabriel's hand on his arm. He watched his brother's calm smile. "Don't worry. I'll play my music, and they'll be on their way. I'm always glad to entertain friends."

Xander was worried. Gabriel would often play for travellers or townsmen, even on occasion the Enclave. Always his own music. But he would rarely sing. When he did, it seemed like all the world would stop. It wasn't irregular for him to bring grown men to tears with his voice. But, strangely, Xander could never remember the words.

The beginning note rang out amidst the quiet day. Even the hovering of the eyebots seemed to fade into the background. Just as he had been asked, Gabriel began to sing. Xander stood, transfixed on his brother. He could sometimes forget how that quiet voice could become an angelic ring the whole town could hear. Never wavering, ever serene.

With some difficulty, he turned his eyes away to look at the Colonel. Evangeline had let her stern mask fall, hands clasped before her mouth and tears beginning to form. Ingram stood at her side, hand on her shoulder. But he was entirely different. A wicked smile was fixed to his face, and he nodded to himself. His whispered yes's were inaudible at first, but grew louder as Gabriel continued.

He stepped closer, letting go of Evangeline. "Yes… Yes! I knew it! I _knew_ it! Come, Gabriel! Show me! Show me The Answer!"

Gabriel looked him in the eye, and both of their heads rolled back. Strangely, the singing continued as Gabriel's mouth shut. Xander watched his brother and the Colonel in their trance. It lasted only a moment before they returned. The guitar strums continued briefly, but the singing had abruptly stopped.

Ingram stood in a haze for a second, before once more eyeing Gabriel. "I see. Thank you." He lowered his voice to a whisper again. "But I can't allow another stand user to be running free."

Xander hadn't seen the pistol drawn. But a shot rang out, and Gabriel toppled over backward from the stones he sat on. But the Enclave hadn't learned about the militia yet. Xander didn't even need to give the order. As soon as Gabriel hit the ground, rifles fired from windows and alleys, bullets striking the robots and power armored soldiers. The Colonel and his daughter fired as they retreated to an alley of their own.

It was dismaying to see the bullets pinging harmlessly off the Enclave soldiers. But Xander didn't have the time to think on that. He rushed to his brother's side.

"Gabriel! Gabriel! Hold on! Stay with me!"

Gabriel, wincing through the pain, somehow found it in himself to smile. The bursts of plasma and ringing of guns subsided, and his brother began to sing.

"When you're facing the path that divides, know that I will be there by your side. Find your strength in the sound of my voice, and you'll know… Which choice… Is… Right."

As he finished, Xander felt a wave of warmth rushing over him. First, all he could see was a bright white. Soon, though, he heard his voice echoing. "No… What can I do? How can I stop them?"

Images flashed past. Rutherford Sayre, the militia, the building the Faythes ran it all from. The wardrobe his brother kept his things. Then, an image of the wardrobe thrown to the ground, and Xander clutching a knife. Then, he was… Stabbing himself? But why?

"I… I think I get it. But… Where should I go?"

More flashes. The ruined Chicago skyline in the distance. A cracked and overgrown road. A faded sign reading "Purdue Northwest". There, Xander again saw himself standing before Colonel Ingram. Rain poured and wind blew. But there was more. A manor. Just outside a small city. A man in a bright red jacket, pistol in one hand and strange mask in the other.

"Brother… This won't end… Not until Ingram is dead. I will not surrender, never yield to his demands."

His vision returned, and Xander didn't waste a moment. He sprinted from the rocks and Gabriel and into the town hall. Stray plasma bolts had already started a fire. As a burning curtain fell in his path, he slid under it and clambered up the stairs. He heard the wooden door crushed. Ingram cried from the entrance.

"Get back here, Faythe! I can't chance you being a user as well!"

He didn't give his odd comments a thought. He shouldered open the door to Gabriel's office. This room was still pristine for now. The coat rack nearby had his brother's black, flowing coat. The material was rough and worn, and there were accents of deep red. He threw the coat on, slammed shut the door, and made for the wardrobe. It was a heavy piece of furniture, and took some work to shake from the wall.

Once it was out of the way, Xander found the bizarre knife. The blade seemed to be gold, with a fine white edge. Even just taking it in his hand, he felt that something was very different about this blade.

Footsteps were coming up the stairs now. There was no other choice but to trust his brother. Gabriel wouldn't mislead him. All he needed was faith.

Moment of doubt passed, he thrust the knife into his chest. Why he was so ready to go through with it, he wasn't sure. All he knew was that those visions hadn't happened yet, meaning he must somehow survive this. Have faith…

Ingram burst through the doors as Xander collapsed, wrenching the dagger free. He stared in shock at first, but laughed a little once it passed. "God… I knew you people were cowards in the end, but to think you'd kill yourself to escape me. At least your brother faced his death with some pride. The least you could have done is -"

Suddenly, Xander began to rise from the floor. He looked himself over, and was amazed to see no trace of the wound that had surely ended his life. The Colonel took a step back, eyes flicking from Xander to the knife. "I - Wait, no. How did you? Why would you? Th - That's a stand arrow! No, a stand knife? Is there more than one weapon?"

Furious, Ingram pulled his pistol. Xander stood now, a strange wind seeming to fill the room. _**BANG**_

Blood splattered the wall behind Xander. He staggered, suddenly more fatigued than before. A dead raven with black and crimson feathers lay on the floor. As Xander righted himself, more began to appear. They flew in through the window, through the door. They seemed to appear from the folds of the coat. Ingram stepped back, even more furious. He began firing wildly at the ravens.

Xander began to slowly approach, realizing he could not only will the ravens to dodge the shots, but to attack. They clawed, pecked, tore at the Colonel as he retreated. But the officer ducked out the door and leapt to the lower story.

Xander quickly chased after him, not wanting to let him escape. A soldier in power armor stood before the door. Xander's ravens flocked around him, clawing at the helm. The soldier couldn't be hurt by them, but he swung at the birds regardless. As he approached, Xander pulled one of his pistols from his belt. He put a well-placed shot between the helmet and chest piece, and the soldier collapsed as blood pooled and spilled.

The doors flew open, and the ravens flew from the building. The other soldiers, having no idea what was going on, watched the spectacle in fear. They were even joined by the militia, not knowing what was causing this. But Xander knew. Whatever this was… A stand? That's what Ingram had called it. Well, his stand was this strange flock of birds.

He was already getting better at controlling them. They soared high above and swept down at the Enclave. They couldn't do any damage to the power armor, but they could serve as distractions. Adversely, Xander found he could get them to rip apart the eyebots, piece by sparking piece. It hurt a little as the sparks hit the ravens, but that just meant he had to be a bit more careful.

He felt at his shoulder, which was warm and wet all of a sudden. A bullet wound? But he hadn't been shot. Then he remembered. _He_ hadn't been shot. But his stand had been.

Even considering the damaging aspect, this power was… Incredible. Surely, this was some unique destiny of his. He looked again to his fallen brother. "Brother… I will make you proud."

He wasn't able to find Ingram in that fight. Somehow the Colonel had slipped away. Still, the day had shaken up Rutherford Sayre. They had been forced to fight the Enclave, their mayor had been killed. And his brother was nowhere to be found.

* * *

The beaten old army jeep sped down the road toward the Vice Manor and Thatcher Woods. Orion finished wrapping a bandage around his daughter's arm, despite her constant complaints. But damn it. Now there was another stand user running around Chicago. That, and the question of there being more stand weapons. He had thought Van Lundholm the only one with the power to give stands.

Though, that didn't matter much. He'd double back to retrieve the knife later. Right now, all Van Lundholm wanted was the mask. And thanks to Gabriel's The Answer, he knew exactly where it was.

* * *

 **Stand Profiles**

Name: The Answer

Power: ?

Speed: ?

Range: ?

Durability: ?

Precision: ?

Learning: ?

Ability: Unclear. Gave visions to Xander and Orion.

* * *

Name: ?

Power: C

Speed: A

Range: B

Durability: D

Precision: B

Learning: D

Ability: Gives control over a flock of mysterious ravens to Xander Faythe.


	6. Chapter 6: Before the Storm

**Before the Storm**

The four walked down the broken street together, though Paul found himself trailing behind them all. Despite Jonathan's insistence on moving on, Paul couldn't help looking over his shoulder. The smoke of Wrigleyton hadn't stopped all day. Now, in the night, an orange glow illuminated the horizon. Smoke trailed in front of the stars.

On top of that, he couldn't stop thinking about what had happened in their escape. What had happened to Mrs. Vice? They hadn't spent much time there. Jonathan spent a moment alone, but had then determined their next move. Neither Paul nor Livia felt they could tell him otherwise. So, they were all bound for the Vice Manor. Whatever had killed his mother, and destroyed Wrigley Field, was after something the Vices had supposedly stolen. Apparently Jonathan knew what they were talking about.

"My mom tangled with people like us a lot. It's a part of our family history, I guess. The one who gave us the most trouble was a man named Van Lundholm. His stand would have already destroyed my mother's in an outright fight. So when she found out he was after something to become even stronger, she took it upon herself to find it first."

Paul shuddered. "So, what happened to her… Was that this guy's stand?"

Jonathan shook his head, eyes fixed forward. "I don't know. I've never met the man, and mom never told me about his stand. Not really. All I know is its name: Another Week."

Now was Euphie's turn, raising a hand in confusion. "So, could you just explain something real quick? I get that you got your stand from your mother, and she got it from her father, etcetera. But… How did we get ours?" She pointed to Paul. "I don't remember when I got mine, but I certainly haven't had it all my life."

Paul nodded, clutching Da Vinci's Notebook closer. "That's a good point, actually. I can't really remember when I got Da Vinci either. I just sort of happened to find its powers when I went to work one day."

"Well… Mom was always vague about that. Aside from your bloodline, I know that there _is_ a way to get a stand. But I don't know how. I think it has something to do with Lundholm though."

Thinking back on today, Paul had only one other question. Well, that was a lie, he had several, but only one that needed immediate answering. "Jonathan… What exactly is it that she took?"

He received only silence in answer.

* * *

Today had been a bad day for everyone, apparently. Jonathan had led them toward Rutherford Sayre to stock up on supplies before heading home. He arrived to find the town empty of all but the bodies. Broken eyebots and fallen militiamen were scattered everywhere.

Livia collected some ammo for her pistol, and handed Paul a shotgun. He eyed it nervously, but took it without protest. Euphemia had a laser pistol, but Jonathan was convinced she'd be making use of her stand more.

He stared at the guitar, jutting from he freshly dug earth, a bullet hole through the top wood. It was marking a grave.

Jonathan eyed his companions as they gathered up again. They looked worn. Euphemia might have been motivated enough just by being able to learn more about herself. But the other two… They needed to know what they were possibly dealing with. Whether they would believe him or not was a different matter.

He sighed. "Alright, so… If we're going to meet resistance, you'll need to know what we're fighting over. Honestly, at this point, I want you to destroy it on sight."

The others stared intently. Jonathan looked toward the horizon as he continued. "Now… You already know how strange the world really is. But… It gets even weirder. Now, how much do you know about pre-war mythology? Monsters, more precisely. You know, werewolves, zombies, vampires."

They nodded, eyeing him curiously. "Yeah… That third one. My mother found out that Lundholm was after some artifact that can... Turn you into a vampire."

Paul's confusion turned into outright disbelief. He laughed a little to himself. "Right. I suppose you mean "allegedly", right? There's no way…"

Jonathan shrugged. "Believe me or not. But mom knew. Apparently, our family fought a few of these vampires. Some of them came from the original. Others from a pillar or something. But it all starts with this artifact. A stone mask. If you see it, smash it to pieces. Or take it to me or Euphemia, we can probably destroy it. But do not wear it!"

Paul still didn't believe him, that much was clear. He couldn't read Livia, though he imagined she wasn't entirely convinced. Thankfully, Euphemia looked like she was, if shocked, convinced. That would have to do.

* * *

Mass hysteria, stands, and now vampires? How much stranger could things get? But even with her understanding of the world shifting, Euphemia was certain Jonathan wasn't lying. The concern on his face as he discussed the mask was genuine. If nothing else, he at least believed everything he was saying.

Thankfully, the others' doubt hadn't pushed them away. The four travelled on together toward the Vice Manor. Livia and Paul would occasionally talk in hushed voices, but whatever they were saying must not have been enough grounds for them to leave. Paul had been holding onto his stand since the fight with her unit. Maybe he was sticking around for the same reason she did. Whatever these stands were, her life with the Brotherhood would never answer the questions they raised. These people might, even if it put her in serious danger.

Drawing closer to the manor, she was reminded of that danger again. The still night was shaken by an explosion. There was a crumbling sound, and a sudden burst of flame. Euphemia saw Jonathan clench his fists, before he took off running. She followed without hesitation.

* * *

Power armored soldiers stormed into the manor. Even with the Vices dead, Orion couldn't be too careful. Knowing Layla Vice, the mask would be well defended. But perhaps the best defense had been the fact no one knew where it was. Layla had taken it to her grave, something Orion had been particularly displeased about. LaBrie never knew how to interrogate. Thankfully, Gabriel had helped with that issue.

"The basement, gentlemen. There's a door beneath the main stairs."

The manor was amazing to behold. Though the wallpapers had clearly been lifted from more intact homes, the architecture was extremely solid. Healthy, dark wood made up the floors and pillars. A work of an old Vice stand perhaps?

Soldiers began tearing paper from the walls, as he watched in eagerness. He was joined quickly by his seconds, the Major and the Captain Brodén. The Brodén brothers had been with him since his promotion, long before he had met Van Lundholm. When Orion found this new power, they insisted on getting their own as well. Whereas Dionysus was a more nuanced power, the brothers' stands were quite like them: Physical and brutal.

Major Thomas saluted him. "Colonel. We've been getting some questions from the General about our use of soldiers. What should we tell him?"

Orion shrugged it off. "Report that we're dealing with some long-standing Brotherhood sympathizers in the area. Soon we'll return the General his resources. Besides, when I deliver this prize to Lundholm, I've been promised an Enclave victory in Chicago."

Captain Chris nodded. "Of course, Colonel. What are we after, exactly?"

"That's not your concern Captain. All that you need to worry about is returning it to Lundholm. Major, I'll trust that to you. You can more easily transport us."

The two nodded and said no more. Not long after, a soldier called out to them. "Sirs, I think we've found the door!"

It was a solid slab of steel, fashioned almost like an old vault door. If that was the case, kicking it in was almost surely impossible. They could search for the opening mechanism, but that could take far too long. Damn it. It seemed The Answer hadn't told him everything. Though, he hadn't exactly asked about this.

Before he could give any order, Chris called out. "Alright soldiers. Fan out. I want everyone searching this mansion top to bottom. Us three will remain to secure the prize. Move!"

They scattered, leaving the officers with the door. It was almost surely impossible to break it down. But of course Chris Brodén would try. Orion and Thomas stepped back, allowing Chris to summon his stand. Panzerkampf erupted into the room, the wood floor cracking under its weight. A massive figure, at least twelve feet tall, a sort of knightly tank, stood with arm cannons pointed at the door.

"Alright Panzerkampf, high explosive ammunition. Bring that door down."

Orion tried to protest. "Um, Chris, I don't think that's -"

 _ **BANGBANGBANGBANGBANG**_

The ground and walls shook from the force of the explosions. Wave after wave of heat blasted back from the steel door. Dust loosed from the walls and decorations fell to the floor. Panzerkampf unloaded round after round. The other two officers stepped even further back, shielding their faces from the heat and debris.

After probably half a minute of continuous fire, Panzerkampf lowered its arms and the cannons fell silent. The steel door had been hammered inward, and warped by the impact and heat of the assault. Holes were everywhere, before and beyond the door, documenting every impact of shrapnel. Chris stood proudly as Panzerkampf receded. "It's open, Colonel."

Orion decided it was best not to dignify that with a response, and instead strode briskly into the basement. He supposed whatever Chris lacked in patience he made up for in efficiency.

He found himself traveling down a twisting stairway, garish wallpapers above replaced with cold unwelcoming concrete. The wood had turned to stone and metal someway down the steps. It was a barren hall, not belonging in this extravagant house. Finally, it led him to a small chamber.

Here was the legacy of the Vice family and their ancestors. Everything gathered over hundreds of years, to times before the Great War, even the World Wars. Several official looking folders, cases, and uniforms bearing a wagon wheel logo. The name "Speedwagon Foundation" was plastered on almost everything. In a case like most of the others, on the opposite end of the room, was Orion's goal.

Lying in the plain metal case was a simple stone mask. It was cracked and worn from age. The nose's bridge trailed up the forehead into a curve, much like a radscorpion's tail. The eyes were nearly slits, and there was no opening at all for the mouth. Two tiny pointed fangs jutted from the top lip.

There was no label or designation, but none was needed. This was the mask Lundholm was after. At this point, even he was too eager for caution. He found himself smashing the glass and tearing free the mask.

He bolted up the stairs as an ancient security system flared to life. Had he taken his time, he would've likely been shredded by the machine gun now lowering from the ceiling. But he didn't give it a second thought. He slid the mask into a nondescript bag and slung it over his shoulder. It felt heavier than he would've imagined.

Thomas saluted as Orion stepped back upstairs. "Colonel! Do we have what we need?"

Orion thumbed toward the bag. "We do. Take me to Lundholm immediately. We can get there in a few days on your stand, I'm sure. As for you Chris, I -"

Before he could properly reprimand him, a soldier ran up to the group. "Colonel, colonel! We've just lost contact with an entire squad."

"Where were they soldier?"

He pointed out the main doors. "Patrolling the woods."

Orion looked back to Chris. "Right then. Don't worry soldier, just gather your men and move out. Captain. I leave whatever's out there to you."

* * *

 **Stand Profile**

Name: Panzerkampf

Power: A

Speed: D

Range: D

Durability: A

Precision: B

Learning: D

Description: A towering knight built as a tank. Twin cannons adorn its forearms, and it has a central machine gun in its chest. Can use armor piercing or high explosive ammunition.


	7. Chapter 7: They're Everywhere

**They're Everywhere**

The final Enclave soldier fell to the ground, helmet and armor cracked from the crushing force of All the Lights' chains. Another was stuck solidly in a crater Commander Cosmo had made. Paul watched from behind a tree, shotgun loaded but lowered. Livia was behind him, visibly more ready and willing. Paul looked again from the fight to his own stand. He couldn't help but think about how Da Vinci really didn't fit with these other stands. His own power was lacking when it came to combat.

For now that didn't matter though. Jonathan was waving them forward. Paul and Livia rushed up to the next row of foliage, from which they could now clearly see the Vice Manor. It was hardly pristine, but then what was out here? The size of it was still surprising. Jonathan pointed to a hole in one of the walls.

"That wasn't there before. These soldiers are inside. Chances are they've already found the basement. We need to hurry. EUphemia and I can handle the soldiers, Paul and Livia, you two need to -"

His orders were interrupted by the sound of wind, beat by the flapping of massive wings. The group turned, and Paul dropped even lower when he saw the source. A figure in silver-grey armor, and wrapped in a flowing band of crimson and gold, sat atop a great copper horse, with wings of bladed feathers. Climbing onto it were two others, both in the outfit of Enclave officers. One saluted to someone in the house, and it took to the sky. Livia had missed the men, and Paul realized she probably had no idea what was going on.

Paul watched, noticing a satchel wrapped around one of the officers. He grabbed it as it was pulled back by the wind. Thankfully, neither of them seemed to notice their group. Jonathan nodded. "Alright… So that hopefully means the enemy stand users have left. On the other hand, that means that…"

It seemed like Jonathan had forgotten his own orders, as he rushed up without a second thought. Euphemia rushed after him, and Paul found himself with no choice but to follow. He and Livia were still several meters away when Jonathan suddenly stopped. "Shit! Get ba-"

There was the sound of a cannon shot. Commander Cosmo appeared, and brought his hands together just in front of himself. Where his hands met, an explosion ripped through the air. Jonathan went flying backward, cuts and wounds bursting through his arms. Before he struck a tree, he was caught by All the Lights. Euphemia had thrown herself to the ground when the explosion sounded. Paul followed suit. Livia had ducked behind a rock near him.

From the house, a massive metal figure rolled forward. The grey steel was rough and dented in places. Massive treads surrounded its sizeable feet. Two tank barrels were built into the arms, and pointed at Jonathan. A voice came from somewhere, presumably inside it as there was audible muffling. "Haha! So you are the son of the Vices. A shame what happened to them, isn't it? Don't worry, my Panzerkampf's job is to send you right to 'em."

Its head, the same grey steel arranged into a winged helm, turned to them. Burning yellow eyes marked the stand's eyes. "If the rest of you want to get out of here, Ingram's promised we'll let you be. Lundholm only cares about the Vice."

Livia peeked over the rock. "What was that explosion. Who's talki-" She looked to where Panzerkampf was. "... That man is flying. I… Assume that means he has a stand?"

Paul nodded, motioning for her to get back down. "Big robot tank knight. Big problems."

The enemy stand pointed to Livia's hiding place. "She can see me through Panzerkampf? Or… She can't see Panzerkampf. You guys brought a non-user with you? That's just asking for problems guys. I mean, one high explosive shell and…"

He readied his cannon. Before he could fire, two hooks caught into the arm, and All the Lights pulled it away. The shot hit the ground a meter or two from Livia. She almost screamed, but knew well enough to move. She bolted from her spot, moving around the house. Paul didn't have much time, and decided his best bet was to follow Livia. Jonathan and Euphemia would have to handle that one.

* * *

Jonathan rose, coughing. Thankfully, it was only his arms that hurt like hell. The Commander should still be able to punch. Good thing, since considering this enemy… He'd probably have to do a lot of those. "Hey, Panzerkampf guy. You seem to know who I am. Who the hell are you, and why are you trespassing on Vice property?"

Panzerkampf kept wrestling with All the Lights' chains, but turned its face toward Jonathan. "Oh? I believe the Enclave has laid claim to this property now. I'm Captain Chris Brodén. You're mostly acquainted with Panzerkampf now. And I've met Ms. Brotherhood's hook guy. But let's see yours again."

Jonathan smiled. "You'd like to get to know him? Gladly." Commander Cosmo shot forward, and before Panzerkampf could react in the slightest, sent the robot back through the wall with a single punch.

Euphemia was almost dragged with him, but All the Lights withdrew their chains just in time. She nodded to Jonathan, and the two krept closer. Unfortunately, the punch seemed to have only knocked him down. From the ground, he fired again with each arm cannon. One round struck the ground just before them both, another shot into the forest. Dirt and shreds of rock flew everywhere. The shrapnel was cutting Jonathan up almost as much as his stopping that first round.

As they reeled, Panzerkampf rose, blocky steel hands lifting it from the floor. "Damn. Lundholm wasn't kidding, you Vice's really do pack a punch. You a bit more literally so than your mother. At least that's what I've heard. Can't afford to let you get close anymore."

Panzerkampf, now stood, tore open its chest with its hands. From within, a ball turret with a heavy machine gun slid forward. Jonathan and Euphemia had only a second to react before a hail of bullets fell over them. Jonathan ducked behind a rock formation, and turned back to Euphemia. He was amazed. Euphemia stood in the middle of it all, but All the Lights stood before her. In the hail of bullets it spun and slashed with hooks. He wasn't sure, but it looked like it had four chains swinging now. Bullets ricocheted and split, going in all directions.

Clearly Brodén noticed her as well. The spread narrowed on her, letting Jonathan slip out to the other side of his rocks.

"Gah! Khhh! Fu-"

He turned and saw a few streaks of blood shooting from wounds on her leg and arms. All the Lights was focusing on a smaller area of incoming fire, and Euphemia tried to fit inside the shrinking area covered. Brodén laughed. "Ha! Damn, Brotherhood, you still holding out? Well soon enough you'll be -" He didn't get to finish as Commander Cosmo punched directly into the ball turret. Jonathan winced as his right arm was torn up further, but it got the result he needed. It rocked back, and some of the rounds even scraped against the side of the stand.

Before he could return to firing, Jonathan rushed forward. Commander Cosmo grabbed hold of the gun, and started pulling. As the ball turret started to come forward, Panzerkampf vanished, and Brodén rolled back. He shot quickly with a pistol, before rushing back toward the house. Panzerkampf reformed near the hole in the wall, and he ducked between its legs.

Euphemia and Jonathan wasted no time. While Brodén was distracted and fleeing, they had to deal as much damage as possible. All the Lights' hooks caught the shoulders of Panzerkampf, while Commander Cosmo delivered a harsh kick to its stomach. This almost worked. But while Panzerkampf was sent reeling once more, the hooks came loose, only cutting the joints somewhat. Inside, they could hear Brodén shriek.

However, as the hooks came loose, he retaliated. Panzerkampf wrapped a steel hand around the two chains. With as great a speed it could muster, it yanked them upward, bringing both All the Lights and Euphemia into the air. Thankfully, Euphemia was still out of range. But Panzerkampf slammed a fist into her stand as it released the chains. Now it was her turn to go flying. Jonathan rushed back to try and catch her. Thankfully, the Commander could reach her stand.

As the Commander caught All the Lights, Jonathan caught her. The two fell to the ground as the wind was knocked out of Jonathan. Their stands stayed ready however.

Brodén was clearly going to play more defensively now. Panzerkampf lowered itself into a squat, and readied its two cannons.

* * *

Another hulking soldier in power armor came up, plasma pistol readied. Thankfully, Paul had gotten into Livia's groove now. She rushed past him, firing for the weak spots she had no chance of hitting. But as the soldier turned after her, Paul rushed forward. This part he hated. He pressed his shotgun into the neck of the soldier, let out his breath, and squeezed the trigger.

The body collapsed to the ground with a heavy metal thud. That was the last one before the door. Livia peered inside. She signaled it was clear. Paul nodded. He wondered where she had learned to do all this. Did radio hosts get into this much trouble? Though, this was probably still a bit bizarre for her, considering the people giving them trouble.

The two opened the heavy wood doors, stepping into a foyer that would've been remarkably lovely. Were it not for the bodies strewn about, and pools and streaks of blood on the walls and floor. The two stood in shock, frozen. In the center of it all was one person, dressed in worn slacks and a vest. He held a brown hat in one hand, and ran the other nervously through long, unruly hair much the same color.

"I… No, I didn't… How could… But there wasn't any… Right, but I… Oh, god…"

He looked nervously from corpse to corpse. He turned to them, and froze himself. Eyes sunken into dark bags darted nervously between the two of them. He was excessively pale. He took a step back.

"Oh no. More. No, please! Don't come any closer! I didn't -"

Livia raised her hands, finger off the trigger. "Woah there. We're not Enclave. We're here with Jonathan Vice. Who are you?"

The man stopped his retreat, eyebrows raising at the mention of Jonathan. "I… Master Vice, he's...? They're here? Thank goodness, I feared… I had imagined the worst. But if the Vices are here, then they can help me! We can… We."

He noticed as both Paul and Livia eyed the ground regretfully. "Oh… So it is… Just master Jonathan then? I see…" His head fell, but his fear seemed largely replaced with sorrow. Finally, he remembered that the two didn't know him. "Oh, forgive me! I'm Mr. Eago. Think of me as the family help. I was supposed to keep watch of the house. You can see how well that's turned out."

Another set of explosions rang out, dust shaking from the ceiling and walls. Paul pointed toward the door. "Jonathan's in danger. If they haven't taken Panzerkampf down yet…"

Livia nodded, readying her pistol again. "We have to go and help. Eago, can you think of anything we could do?"

He shook his head. "I don't know. Though, if the master is trying to get through a tough force, perhaps hitting them from behind would be enough? Or, from above perchance?"

Livia smiled. "That could help! Is there any way to get a good look above the yard?"

Eago nodded. "Of course. There's a balcony that runs around the whole manor's third floor. We should be able to reach it easily. Though… Perhaps we should avoid the central hall."

Paul looked back. "Alright, let's move. We don't need more Enclave getting the drop on us."

Eago began to lead them up a staircase to their right. "The master bedroom is right at the top of these stairs, and has a door directly to the balcony. What is it master Vice is dealing with, anyway? These… These Enclave, what did they bring?"

Livia and Paul eyed each other, not sure if they should explain, or even if Eago would be able to believe them. Paul was about to start an explanation as Eago opened the doors in front of them. Five Enclave soldiers, looting through open drawers and closets, turned to look at them.

Eago took a step back. "Oh god… They're everywhere! Not again!" He turned and crouched, arms over his head. All the soldiers raised their weapons. Paul had no time to reach for Da Vinci. However, as their weapons charged, Paul watched as shadows stretched out from under Eago. One went toward each soldier.

Paul watched as the shadows peeled themselves from the floor. They looked… Unreal. As if they were there, but weren't. Thin, elongated hands reached up toward their targets. Their attack was fast, but Paul could see every swipe, claw and lunge. The soldiers, unprepared for an attack none of them could see, were torn to shreds. Pieces of their armor were thrown aside, as blood splattered the room. Paul turned away.

Eago was there behind him, huddling in a corner still. "Those… These creatures… Why? They were gone… I was fine! What… What are they?"

Another explosion shook Paul from his shock. He turned back the room, and shot past a now deathly pale Livia. He did what he could to ignore the blood and viscera as he threw himself onto the balcony. Below, he could see the part of the yard they had been fighting in. Sat in the hole in the wall, kneeling and firing into the wood, was Panzerkampf.

Paul moved as fast as he could. He tore Da Vinci's Notebook from his jacket, and his pencil from his boot. Kneeling, he touched pencil to page. "I need something that can destroy that stand. Something! Anything!"

He opened his eyes, watching as Da Vinci did its thing. The graphite spun and wove, and shot from the paper. Attaching itself to the balcony, it quickly took the form of five metal tubes, all pointed toward the top of Panzerkampf. The launchers were set upon a swivel, which was going to be useful, as now the enemy began to roll forward.

"Did I get ya Vice? C'mon, throw a punch if I didn't."

Paul spun the rocket launchers after him, and lined up his shot. It held still again to fire another volley. Paul pulled one of the triggers. Or, more aptly, attempted to. It locked as he pulled. He tried another. And another. None of the tubes fired. He nearly threw Da Vinci's Notebook to the floor. "Seriously!? How am I supposed to use this?! Damn it!"

Panzerkampf turned. "Oh? The other guy. I don't really know what your stand can do. Oh well, better kill you just to be safe. High explosive!"

Paul heard a shocked yelp behind him, and turned to see Eago. "I… What…? How…? We're all going to die!"

Even as he stood in terror, the shadows shot forward again, this time taking shape in a wall formation just before him. Eago yelped again and made for the door. Livia caught and held him, watching the balcony in anticipation. The shadows rushed forward, and Paul leapt aside. But they weren't making for him. Each shadow took hold of one of the launcher's tubes, and pointed it again at Panzerkampf.

"Oh… _Shit._ " Panzerkampf desperately raised its cannons as fast as it could.

Paul ducked into the bedroom as a fiery explosion ripped through the air behind him.

* * *

 **Stand Profile**

Name: They're Everywhere

Power: B

Speed: B

Range: C

Durability: C

Precision: B

Learning: C

Description: A collection of shadow figures. Thin, with long limbs and few discernable features. Act only to defend Jim Eago, and seem to be outside of his control. Five seems to be the maximum to appear.


	8. Chapter 8: Birth of the Dragon

**Birth of the Dragon**

Winged Hussar came crashing to the ground, cracked asphalt and dirt being thrown into the air. Orion gripped the cold, smooth copper beneath him. It had made for a hell of an uncomfortable moonlit ride. The three of them, Orion, Thomas, and his stand were all sat too closely on this metal horse. The flight over Lake Michigan hadn't been fun to say the least. But now they were finally here. Van Lundholm's manor had once been a country club set in a park in Michigan City. Now it was a proud, lone building looking over the desolate town.

Orion stepped quickly past the two guards outside. They said nothing, having gotten used to seeing the colonel. Brodén was at his side, Winged Hussar having vanished. This would be the major's first time meeting directly with Lundholm. "Colonel, I… I think I need to ask, really. Who exactly is this van Lundholm? I mean… You seem so sure that he can win us Chicago. Why?"

Who was Lundholm? Orion had an answer for that. A monster. A horrid, detestable being without a heart and a devious, scheming mind. But he was a useful monster. The Enclave could benefit from his help, no doubt. But he wouldn't say that out loud. "Lundholm is a powerful man, and the reason you and I have our powers. This -" He waved the parcel containing the stone mask. "- will only serve to make him stronger. We keep him happy, give him this? He'll decimate the Brotherhood."

Before they reached the central chamber, Orion threw a hand out in front of Thomas. In the open pine doorway was a fluttering white veil. He sighed. "Is that how you plan to welcome your friends, LaBrie?"

The veil vanished, and Jordan slipped out from behind the door. He smirked, but ushered the two of them inside. "Oh, come now Orion. How are we beings of power meant to entertain ourselves? No more than a harmless jest, honest."

If van Lundholm and his ilk were strange creatures, Jordan LaBrie was stranger still. He was smartly and cleanly dressed, and spoke in a refined, intelligent way. He probably rivaled the Enclave and Brotherhood's brightest mentally. Despite this, he spent his life surrounding himself with people lacking his own charisma. His _stand_ , however, fit in perfectly well with his company.

Orion glanced around the dark room. It seemed somehow more dreary and abandoned than the rest of the manor. "Where is our benefactor then? I'm sure Lundholm wants this fast."

LaBrie nodded, eyeing the parcel in hardly masked delight. "Oh yes, most certainly. Unfortunately, he's out at the moment. He promised to be back this morning, and with him travelling on Marvin's stand, I'm sure he'll be back -"

"Just in time." A lilting voice filled the room, the warm songlike sound almost contradictory to the cold chill Orion felt down his spine. The air rushed by as a green blur entered the room, before quickly vanishing. Marvin Hall rolled to a stop, kneeling before the steps climbing to Lundholm's throne. Lundholm himself landed lightly on his feet, some way up the stairs.

Eccentric. There was another good description. Lundholm was an eccentric monster. His bright red jacket made him pop, made him the center of attention in the dim, grey room. His long blond hair fell to his shoulders, cradling his smiling face in golden waves. The bright green of his eyes seemed to glow in this darkness. He pointed to Orion as he walked his way backward up the stairs. "Colonel! My lovely little Chicagoan, come to bring me my newest accessory! Come, here here. To me, Ingram." He beckoned as he slouched into the worn armchair that was his throne.

As much as Orion didn't trust the man in the slightest, he figured he'd come this far without being murdered in treachery. So he walked briskly past the beaming Marvin Hall, and his stupid multi-color tie, right up to van Lundholm. He placed the parcel in his outstretched hand, before giving a curt nod in way of a bow.

Lundholm seemed like he couldn't care less, though. He tore the packaging away and held up the mask, eyes wide in ecstasy. "Oh… Oh, GOD yes! HAHA! This, my friends, is why I do love the Enclave. So capable, so mission oriented. Colonel, your rewards will be great, I swear it!" He kissed the mask, and shot from his throne. "Well now… For the moment that will define our lives, gentlemen."

" _Ahem_." Orion turned to look behind him, up at the balcony overlooking the room. There stood a small woman in worn road wear and leathers, black hair catching the moonlight.

Lundholm chuckled. "Of course. Blah blah blah define our lives, _lady_ and gentlemen. Forgive me, 'Ponine. Alright now… Who's blood to use? Perhaps my own? To achieve near godhood by my own hand… It does seem quite fitting, no?"

Orion, knowing only some of what they were speaking of, felt he could finally make some grand gesture. One way or another, Lundholm would have found the mask. But allowing Orion to show his loyalty entirely... "Use mine, sir. Let us bind your words with blood. Make it my signature to your contract, if you will."

Lundholm smiled. "Oh? I _do_ love me some poetic symbolism… Alright, you've won the honors, Colonel. At least for my transformation. But you're sure you still don't want to…?"

"No. The Enclave values our humanity, in its purest form. I can't give that up, not even for what you promise."

Though Lundholm's smile faltered somewhat, he nodded, laying a hand on Orion's shoulder. "Very well. If nothing else I respect your adherence to these values, misguided as they are. You see, I am unshackled by such purist views. I can look beyond, and reject this prison of my humanity. And I will only be the first of many."

Lundholm's hand never lifted, but ran from Orion's shoulder, up his neck, and cradled his cheek. No matter how used to Lundholm Orion thought he was, the man could still unsettle him, no question. "But to use your blood, colonel… I consider you in every sense one of us. Thank you." With that he clawed at Orion's face, leaving three bleeding gashes on his cheek. Though he winced, Orion never recoiled. He was too transfixed.

Lundholm pressed the mask into his face, his eyes obscured by the shadows cast by the narrow slits. He shuddered as he ran his bloody fingers over the stone, breathing rushed. Suddenly, numerous spines shot out from the sides of the mask, which dug into the sides and top of his head. Lundholm recoiled and shrieked, but kept himself standing. The mask began to burn with a bright blue-white light, joined by a blinding red from the eyes. Orion watched in horrified fascination.

It felt like a full minute passed before the spines retracted. Before the mask could hit the floor, Lundholm grabbed it. The room was silent as they watched him. As he raised himself back to standing, he took several deep breaths. He used his free hand to fix his hair, which he had thrown about in his movements. His eyes opened, a red light within them yielding back to the green. His wide, ecstatic smile was now joined by four fangs.

He stepped slowly down the stairs, eyes traveling from one of his disciples to the next. Without a word, he looked to Eponine on her balcony above him. He seemed to simply rise to her. Though her breath caught, she leaned back into his arm as he embraced her. He placed the mask on her, whispering something the colonel couldn't make out as he again pressed Orion's blood onto the stone. Orion and Thomas left through the doors to the sound of her scream.

Disconcertingly, Lundholm met them outside the building. He definitely couldn't have done that before. "My friends, so soon back to the front? Is there some urgent mission that calls you home?"

Thomas watched Orion, neither entirely comfortable with where this might be going. "No, but the general will eventually tire of our excursions. It's best we return. Besides, we'll need the Enclave ready for when you dismantle the Brotherhood."

Orion watched Lundholm as he sighed, and stepped closer to him. "I think you misunderstand, colonel. Is there something you've forgotten? An order? A mission? Something I _explicitly_ gave you in regards to finding my prize?" He grabbed Orion's shirt, lifting him from the ground to stare him more directly in the eyes. "I said to wipe them out! OBLITERATE THEM! And what do I find when Mr. Hall takes me to see your progress? That the perpetual thorn in my side may have been trimmed, only to be replaced by another further down the rose!" He tossed Orion to the ground, and quickly disarmed Thomas, who had made to shoot him.

Gasping for breath, Orion threw a hand up. "Wait! Please! Thomas, don't! He's right, I shouldn't have left things unresolved. But I left the young Vice to the major's brother, and his Panzerkampf should be more than able to handle him!"

Lundholm's cold gaze went back and forth from Orion and Thomas, before he finally returned Thomas his pistol. "I should hope he's dead then. Return to me when you've confirmed as much. You won't like what happens otherwise. I'd hurry as well. Six days, eighteen hours, twenty-three minutes."

Orion looked at him, confused. He had demonstrated the effect of his stand before, delightedly having counted down to the death of one of Orion's rival officers. "... Who? Who's timer is that?"

Lundholm smiled. "I've found with military men, threatening their lives can be largely fruitless. I mean, you come see _me_ regularly. You clearly don't fear dying. But colonel…" He feigned a pitious look, shaking his head. "How unwise to leave poor Evangeline all alone. Such a sweet girl."

For the first time in a long while, Orion drew his gun without thinking, pointing it right to van Lundholm's smug face. "What. The hell. Did you do to her?!"

"My good Ingram! I feel attacked! What exactly are you insinuating? Ah, perhaps just the fear of a loving father. Though, don't misunderstand, I was _very_ tempted to tear away that uniform of her's. I do have a thing for uniforms. An even bigger one for terrified girls. But relax. I do have some control over those more base desires. I only punched a hole through her chest instead."

He very nearly pulled the trigger as Lundholm described his sick fantasy for Evangeline. Instead the gun fell from his grip as he took in what this meant. If Lundholm was telling the truth, that meant she had only a week to live, his stand delaying her death. He had also seen full well that Lundholm could reverse this kill strike, as he had with Eponine. Chances were Evangeline could even live and function normally, though she was probably terrified and confused.

Orion could see that even Thomas looked mortified, gripping the pillar behind him to keep from falling. He had to step up now. He picked up and holstered his gun as he stood. There was curiosity more than anything else in van Lundholm's eyes. "You… Will have Jonathan Vice's body before next Sunday. Swear to me you'll undo what you did."

Again, Lundholm set a hand on his shoulder, taking a reassuring tone. "But of course, my good colonel. Just as soon as you bring me his body. Best hurry though. I've promised a few others some choice rewards should they bring me the Vice boy's head. Competition breeds success after all."

Orion spun Thomas to face away from van Lundholm, pushing him down the walk way. "Come on major. We need to fly."

"I… Bu…" He gulped. "W-where to, colonel?" Winged Hussar formed, pegasus kicking and screaming, mounted figure glaring toward the vampire on the manor's doorstep.

"The Vice manor. God forgive me Evangeline, but there's no time to check on her. We find the body, or if Chris hasn't reduced him to one we deal with him, then work together and take down Vice. Now hurry!"

* * *

Paul rose from the dusty ground of the balcony coughing. It was quiet now, the sounds of the battle passed. A crackling of fire was the only noise still daring disturb the silence. As he stood, Livia rushed from the room and grabbed him in a hug. "God Paul, I - You're alright! Is it gone?"

Paul turned to overlook the yard, difficult as he had to wrestle in Livia's embrace. There was a blasted crater where Panzerkampf had been, and the stand user was thrown onto the ground, his body broken and blackened. He turned away quickly. "Yeah. We got him Livia." Awkwardly, he returned the embrace.

From inside, he heard Eago shouting. "Master Jonathan! Oh, I cannot say how good it is to see you… Mostly unharmed."

"Jim? Holy shit, you're alive! Oh… Oh, holy shit… Did… Did you do this?"

Paul and Livia reentered the bloodstained room, pieces of Enclave soldiers here and there. Oh. Right. Paul managed to get free of Livia, and nodded to their new friend. "He has a stand too. Buncha shadows, tore right through these guys and their power armor. They also pulled the triggers on Da Vinci's rocket launcher. So he saved all of us."

Despite the worried look on the man's face, Jonathan playfully slugged him in the shoulder. "Well hell, good work Jim. Been too long since I've seen those guys. Or maybe not long enough. Still can't control them?"

Jim shook his head, eyes on the floor. "Ah well. Don't beat yourself up over it." Done consoling Jim, Jonathan's joy fell away, replaced with visible worry. "Shit, right. The vault."

He took off down the stairs Paul and Livia had been led up. Jim was slow to follow. "I overheard them. Just before you arrived, master Jonathan. They have it." Jonathan didn't listen. Instead, he strode quickly toward the main chamber.

The group followed him through the decorated main hall, a broken and warped steel door, and a cold staircase falling into the dark basement. An old automatic turret swiveled at their approach, quickly ripped from the ceiling by Commander Cosmo. He scanned the room, Paul trying to do the same. This whole place seemed weird and alien. It was clean, most of all. But on the far end of the room from the steps, Paul spotted something different.

"Jon, that case. Was that…?"

Jonathan rushed across the room, toward the glass case with the shattered front. Black iron props held nothing up but air, and he cursed as he kicked the case to the floor. "Damn it! Fuck! I couldn't… He took… GOD! It's been up to me for all of a day and I FUCK IT UP!"

He went to his knees, and before he really recognized what he was doing Paul had rushed up to his side. Jonathan turned to him, and for the first time that cool, in charge look had melted, and Paul realized how serious this was. Jonathan Vice was crying.


	9. Chapter 9: Ravenskill

**Ravenskill**

"P-please! Please stop! I can give you the caps, I just need some time! The chems are still good, I just can't get to them! How do you expect me to get into the field now?" Kaleb motioned wildly toward Wrigley Field, a thin grey smoke still rising from inside. Though they couldn't be seen now, Brotherhood knights were still crawling around the place. No one could get in or out without taking a laser blast to the face. But now it seemed like that was Kaleb's fate regardless.

"Kal, Kal. What do we pay you for, huh? How's about this. We'll throw in a bonus. An extra fifty caps if you go and collect the goods." Despite Zayne's understanding tone, he didn't lower his makeshift laser pistol.

"Hell no! Fifty caps is not worth dying for! And neither are your damn chems!" He barely finished the sentence before receiving a swift kick to the gut. He doubled over again.

"Ah ah ah. We both know that's not entirely true. Your a good runner, Kaleb, be a shame to get rid of you. But anyone can be replaced. Care to reconsider?"

Kaleb cursed the whirring of the laser pistol charging. So this was how he died, huh? To be fair, shot by chem dealers in an alley had been one of the three ways he'd put money on. He had just always hoped it would come much, much later. Well, at least he'd die defiant. He raised his eyes back to Zayne. "No. Fuck you."

"Ha. Well, fair enough. Pleasure doing business Kaleb. Hopefully you got someone who cares enough to bury you." He didn't. Unless Livia had made it out. Either way, not like it'd change the fact that this was the end.

"Gah! Shit!" Suddenly Zayne's laser pistol fell and hit the ground. Kaleb looked up, and saw him clutching at his right arm. Then a blur of black and red shot past his face, and three fresh claw marks were left streaked across his face. As he recoiled, his two cronies spun around, trying to find the source of the attack. Kaleb found himself just as concerned.

A moment later, a large black bird came down and landed a few feet from them. The two bodyguards lowered their guns and chuckled a bit. Zayne was still scowling, but laughed aloud to himself anyway. "Well. Guess the bird ain't fond of me. Not that it'll save you much, just a minute more. Any prayers to - Hey!"

As he had reached for his pistol, the bird had launched forward and grabbed it in its claws. It flew away, taking the rather rare weapon with it. "God damn birds…"

Suddenly, Kaleb noticed something. They were all over. There were identical birds on the nearby telephone wires, the edges of the building's roofs. All of them seemed to be staring at the scene in the alley.

The four of them turned further into the alley to the sound of footsteps. The figure was mostly nondescript. His hair was a light brown, and neatly cut. Kaleb could only just make out his steel grey eyes. His black and red coat flowed near to the ground. His demeanor, though, was entirely different from everyone else there. He walked with a cold confidence, as if entirely unconcerned by the two guns now pointed at him.

As he came farther out of the shadows, Kaleb could recognize the man. But why was Xander Faythe in Wrigleyton? As if in answer, the militiaman pointed to Kaleb. "You. You're the most well connected person I know. I need you. Alive."

Zayne laughed more confidently. "And who the hell do you think you are? Think you've got a claim on our runner? He's already dead, don't ya know?"

"Shut up." As he said this, a bird launched from a nearby building and clawed at Zayne's throat. He gagged and sputtered on the blood, and went down. Before his cronies could act, two more tore their own guns away, pecking their hands away. One of the men backed away, drawing a knife from his belt.

"W-w-what the…? Who the hell are you?!" His companion fumbled for a pipe lying on the ground at his side.

Xander smiled. "Call me Ravenskill." The birds descended en masse, ripping and pecking, the flapping of wings mingling with their pained screaming.

* * *

As the birds finally flew away, the men either dead or fainted from pain and surprise, Xander couldn't help but smile. He was learning how to use this stand thing pretty well. The birds could manage some decently complicated things. Kaleb was crouched against the wall, eyes wide in surprise. Also, possibly horror.

He had timed his arrival just right. Any later, and his best chance at information would have been dead. Kaleb may have been a drug runner, but to certain groups, the information he found on his runs was even more valuable. Even the Enclave made use of him.

"Kaleb. Remember me?"

He nodded, eyes drifting from Xander to the birds still watching. "Y-yeah. Commander Faythe. What are you doing all the way out here? Also… Ravenskill? Isn't that from a comic?"

It actually was. An occasionally recurring villain from the Silver Shroud comics. He robbed banks with a flock of birds. The way he dressed and the relation between their powers led Xander to take up the name. He had somewhat hoped nobody would notice that.

Not that it mattered. "Sayreskill's burned. The Enclave tore through us. I need your help to track down the colonel." Kaleb started to protest, but Xander raised his hand. "I know you do jobs for them sometimes, and I honestly don't care. But I need to find Ingram."

"Why start with him then?" Xander drew his pistol to the newcomer, who slid in from the opposite end of the alley, closer to Kaleb. He recognized Evangeline immediately. "The drug runner only knows what he needed to. I'm sure you'd find what I can give you more useful." She had a pistol herself, pointed at Xander from her hip. Though he could easily disarm her, perhaps it was wiser to consider her. Who better to provide info on the Enclave than one of their own officers?

"Alright then, if anyone can lead me to one Ingram… Lower your gun, and I'll do the same." She shrugged, and holstered her weapon without argument. He honestly hadn't expected her to so easily go along with that. Fair was fair though, so he did the same. Kaleb wasted no time in scrambling up and out of the alley. Maybe having his stand rip apart those gunmen right in front of Kaleb was a mistake… Guns probably would've been more welcomed.

Evangeline, however, seemed more intrigued than worried. She nodded toward the power lines. "Those birds. You're controlling them somehow, right? How are you doing that?"

Xander wasn't sure how to answer that in a way she'd understand. So he wouldn't. "I thought you were providing the information. I wanna know where I can find your father." He already had a feeling he knew where to go, but if he could find Orion sooner, all the better.

It seemed like it would just be further disappointment though. "Yeah, sorry buddy. I don't have a fucking clue where my dad went. Now, as for these birds… This is like Gabriel, right? These are like The Answer, or dad's Dionysus. This is your stand."

Of course. Xander only heard the word because of colonel Ingram. It stood to reason he had told his own daughter about them. Equally reasonable was that Orion had a stand of his own. Why had Ingram not used it when Xander attacked him, then? Though, if Gabriel's visions were somehow his stand, maybe Dionysus was more like that. "Yes. I decided to call it Ravenskill. Your father told you about these then?"

"Something like that." She walked closer, stepping carefully over the bodies. "I could tell immediately when he got it. Well, almost immediately. I'm surprised it took you so long to realize your own. Or maybe you just were smart enough not to use it at first." He had no idea what she was talking about, but she was right in front of him now. "But I knew because he taught me how to use mine."

She raised her arm, and a metal viper shot from her arm, twirled through the air, and dug into Xander's arm with a needle. He screamed at the initial pain, but as it burrowed into him, the pain became nothing more than a discomfort. Evangeline's newly raised pistol became the more concerning issue. "Ravenskill, meet my Enemy Within. Don't worry, the installment won't hurt. Unless I want it too. Once it's in you though, I can it have attack your spine or brain in an instant. So don't try anything."

Shit. Why did he even consider trusting this girl?! She was nothing but cruel before, why would that change now? He could feel it worming it's way up his arm, but once it reached his shoulder the feeling vanished. There was no visible change in his arm. But he knew it was there.

As if she hadn't just concluded threatening his life and depositing a lethal parasite within him, she smiled. "Now then, Faythe. We at least have a similar goal. I haven't seen my father since late yesterday. Normally that wouldn't be a problem, but… Something's happened." Her smile was gone, her eyes fell. "I need to find him, to help him if I can. I was looking for Kaleb to get more information on someone else, but running into another stand user is good luck. Come on, we need to go back to the Enclave. If we want to find my dad, that's our best bet."

Xander couldn't let that happen. Firstly because he was fairly confident that the Enclave wouldn't be very receptive to him. Secondly, because deeper into Chicago was the last place he needed to go, if his brother's stand was accurate. "No! I was asking around to find him sooner! If you don't know, then I have somewhere to find him."

"What are you talking about? You're as lost as I am in this. The Enclave can help us find him, and you can help me with van -"

"Gabriel showed me something with The Answer!"

To that she was silent. She looked from Xander to the street beyond the alley a few times. Finally, contemplation seemingly over, she turned back to him. "Well… What did it show you then? Where's my father?"

She must trust his brother's power at least somewhat. Maybe with her father's explanation, she understood it even better than he did. "I'm not sure exactly. All I know is that I meet him in the future, at someplace called Purdue Northwest. I know it's somewhere beyond Chicago. I could see myself against the city skyline. But beyond that…"

Apparently, that was enough for Evangeline. "Hang on, I know where that is. It's an old university campus in the Hammond area. That's only thirty miles from here! We should be able to get there today, if we hurry." Her brief excitement faded, as she looked down her body. "And… We really should hurry. I can't get out of here without orders, and Enemy Inside isn't enough to protect me, apparently. So you'll be helping with that. Lead the way, Faythe."

He was increasingly confused by her cryptic urgings to move faster, but decided it best to go along with it. After all, he had a built in kill-switch should he displease her now. She probably knew he was trying to kill her father though, so why she was helping him get there was a bit… Strange, to say the least. Without any other reasons for delay, the two of them began their walk down the deserted Wrigleyton street.

* * *

Six days, sixteen hours, four minutes. At least, that was as close as he could reason. He had made Thomas hand him a detonator for a time bomb, and rigged it for a different countdown. How long Evangeline had to live. He had done what he could to account for the difference in time since when Lundholm told him and when he got the clock working. Six days, which seemed like nowhere near enough time.

It was six days, fifteen hours and fifty eight minutes when Winged Hussar finally touched down outside the Vice manor. Thomas fell to his knees, and cradled his brother's ruined body in his arms. Orion didn't have time to mourn. He tore through the mansion, every room, every corner. All he found were the soldiers he'd left behind, dead.

Six days, fifteen hours and thirty nine minutes when he finally finished his survey of the area. Leaving Vice to Chris Brodén, what had he been thinking?! When he got back outside, Thomas' look of defeat had turned to one of malice. "Major, we need to get moving. Chances are that they haven't gotten far. They don't know where Lundholm is. We should take to the skies again."

"Yes sir. I just want one thing."

Orion nodded. The man deserved far more. Most of all, he deserved a rest. But neither of them could afford that now. "Name it, Thomas."

"Sir… You can bring the body back, save your daughter. But when we find them… I want to kill Jonathan Vice."

Fair enough. The two had been each other's closest friends in their days of service. Orion may have lifted them to officers, but they had helped each other survive that long in the first place. It wouldn't be fair to deny him that vengeance. He was sure he'd request something similar if Evangeline were to be killed. "Of course, major. I understand how important family is."

They took off again. In truth, Orion had no idea where to start. Most likely in Wrigleyton, or perhaps they took a detour to Rutherford Sayre. He wished he had more time to think this through, to plan. Six days, fifteen hours, twenty minutes.

* * *

 **Stand Profile**

Name: Enemy Inside

Power: C

Speed: A

Range: D

Durability: B

Precision: A

Learning: B

Ability: Can install itself into an enemy, lying dormant unless Evangeline wishes it to hurt or kill them.


End file.
